by Jill Jones
In the quiet of his own room, he fell into an armchair and tried to gather his thoughts before he called Garrison. He’d gone to Cornwall to find answers to a murder, and he’d come away with a woman. A woman he did not know quite what to do with. He thought about her next door, soaking in a hot bath, slipping into the silken robe, stretching out on the bed…
It had been a long time since Jack had ached at the thought of a woman.
He wished he had some whiskey.
That not being an option, he picked up the phone and dialed Garrison’s number, feeling suddenly abashed that with all that had happened today, he had not once thought about Brad.
“Garrison Holstedt.” His old friend’s voice was a welcome sound in Jack’s ear.
“Garrison, it’s Jack. I’m sorry I didn’t call earlier, but something’s come up. How’s Brad?”
He heard a heavy sigh on the other end and prepared himself for the worst. “He’s just the same,” Garrison told him. “No better. No worse. Look, Jack, can you get back soon? There are some things we need to go over, and I’d like to do it in person.”
There it was again, that intimation of trouble. “What’s up, Garrison? What’s wrong?”
There was a long silence. Then Garrison spoke again, his words measured. “The police think you might be the killer.”
Jack let out the breath he had been holding. “That’s old news, Garrison. Inspector Sandringham told me that the day he also gave me his okay to investigate this thing.”
“Yes, but there are things he doesn’t know…yet. Things that…well, if he finds out, could turn the case against you.”
Jack was too astounded to reply. What on earth could Garrison be talking about? He found his tongue at last. “I don’t suppose you want to tell me what those things might be…?”
“Not on the phone. No,” he added, “we need to have a talk, face to face, in private.”
A knot of foreboding hardened in Jack’s belly. He had hoped to allow Keely more time to adjust before taking on London, but whatever was on Garrison’s mind sounded serious. He also thought about the phone call from Keinadraig. Maybe it would be better after all to put more distance between her and those who might wish her harm. In London, she could put Genevieve’s affairs in order. And there were others more qualified than Jack who could help her get started on a new life.
“I’ll be there tomorrow,” he said at last and hung up before he realized he had not mentioned Keely.
He slipped off his shoes. Guess it would be a day of surprises for both of them.
Chapter Twelve
Keely locked the door behind Jack as he’d instructed and leaned back against the old wood. She had never been so humiliated in her entire life. The woman at that last store had treated her like she was unclean when she did not know what to make of certain “products,” as she’d called the various items.
Cleanliness was important to the way of life on Keinadraig, for everyone knew cleanliness promoted health. Of course Keely took baths and saw to her personal well-being. She was outraged when that woman had intimated perhaps she did not. It was just that Keely, like all Dragoners, used Ninian’s herbals instead of cakes of “deodorant” soap wrapped in bright paper. They used salt and water for cleansing teeth, not a paste that tasted like mint candy. And as for the other, Keely had never heard of a tampon. It sounded strange and unnatural, and she was not at all sure she wished to learn to use what modern women used for the moon flow.
In spite of the woman’s rude inferences, however, Keely was grateful it had not been Jack who helped her find what she needed. At the moment, she was merely humiliated. If Jack had tried to explain women’s products to her, she thought she might have died right on the spot.
Keely went to the bed and emptied the bags. She was very pleased with the clothing, which Jack had insisted she buy, for she had never had such fine things. The dresses were modern, stylish, and brightly colored, making her own clothing look drab in comparison. And the undergarments! They were so soft and sensuous surely they must be sinful to wear. She held the shimmery green robe up to her and looked at herself in the mirror. The color accented the green in her eyes and complemented her skin and dark hair. It, too, was sinfully soft to the touch. She laughed quietly. It reminded her of the pizza—so decadent she felt almost guilty.
Keely sank onto the bed and found it, too, was plush and luxurious. There were fine hangings at the windows, elegant light fixtures, carpeting beneath her feet. She had never considered her home shabby, but in comparison, it was…plain at best.
And suddenly, she was struck by a twinge of longing to be back among that plainness.
It was, at least, familiar. It was clean, it served her needs. Why in the name of the Saints had she left it? All this…decadence…was nice, but it was not better, she decided. What was better was the closeness of friends and family, people who cared about her.
And ordered her to obey them with unquestioning loyalty? People who gave her no choice in matters that concerned her life? Who were willing to excommunicate Genny and claim that she had never existed…?
Was that better?
Keely hugged her knees to her chest, feeling lost and alone, like a small child who has strayed off the path in a dark forest. The only friends and family she had would no longer wanted her. She had no one, except Jack, who could ease the loneliness that wrapped like a serpent around her heart, who could calm the quiet desperation she felt gnawing at her nerves. Jack, who had been so kind, but who also seemed to have become a reluctant hero.
She knew she had embarrassed him today. She’d felt his awkwardness and guessed that he would be glad to rid himself of her as soon as possible. He was just too honorable to say so. She must depend upon him for the moment, but as soon as she was able, she would repay his money and release him from his self-imposed obligation. She would talk to him later about cutting this “vacation” short. He’d mentioned that in London there were people who could help her get a new start in life, and she was anxious to get on with it.
In the meantime, the hot bath he had also mentioned beckoned her. She sorted through the various packages from the chemist’s until she came to the foil-wrapped container of scented bath salts. “House of Rutledge,” the label said. The lavender crystals inside smelled divine.
She went into the adjoining chamber wherein stood a huge, claw footed tub with golden fixtures. Thick, white towels rested on gold rods, and long lace curtains draped gracefully from ceiling to floor. Keely had to catch her breath again at this elegance in a room she had always considered to be merely functional.
She ran a small amount of water into the tub, for she was used to the frugal use of that precious commodity on the semi-arid island. And then she remembered she was no longer on that island. Was water scarce here as well? Or did she dare enjoy the decadence of deeper water?
She dared. She ran the water as hot and deep as her conscience would allow, added a generous amount of the fragrant bath salts, and eased her tired body and soul into the most sublime bathing experience of her life.
She soaked until her fingers looked like wrinkled fruit and the water grew tepid. She warmed the tub by adding more hot water, then she lathered her body with the strangely scented soap bar the woman had recommended. Keely preferred Ninian’s herbal soap, but this would have to do for now.
She scrunched down into the water and flooded her black hair, then emerged again and massaged a palm full of hair soap—“shampoo,” it said on the bottle—into the thick, dark mass. This product smelled like the peaches that were sometimes brought to the island as a special treat.
After her bath, Keely stroked her hair with the new brush, working out the tangles and fluffing it to help it dry. She wished she could stand in the breeze, as she did at home, to hurry the process.
At home.
Keely gulped. She had no home. Right now, this lovely but unfamiliar room was her only home.
That she had no home was too depressing to consider,
so she draped her new clothing over a chair, donned the sleeping gown, turned back the covers and slipped between the cool sheets, her bath-limp body crying out for rest.
She closed her eyes and immediately drifted off, but soon began to toss fitfully. Instead of a peaceful rest, hers was an uneasy, dream-filled sleep. Something lurked in the midnight of her slumber, a dark, unnamable terror, a creature that knew her every move and stalked her like a predator. She tried to run, but she could not escape. Her body seemed to be floating helplessly in a black void. There was nothing to hold onto, no foothold to ground her, nothing, except the terror coming closer and closer.
A flash of red lit the darkness, and flames lashed into the abyss, turning it into an inferno. The unseen threat took shape and form. It reared terrible and fierce before her eyes, ready to tear out her heart with its wicked dragon’s claw.
Keely screamed, desperately crying out for someone to save her. But the dragon only roared with wicked laughter as he came nearer and nearer…
Jack was struck with a sickening sense of déjà vu when he heard Keely scream. The last time he’d heard screaming, he’d found the bloodbath in Brad’s room. He raced for her door and pounded on it. “Keely! Keely! It’s Jack. Are you all right? Let me in!”
He was ready to break down the door when Keely finally opened it. Her face was pale and drawn, her eyes wide, and she clutched the green silk robe tightly across her breasts. Jack pushed past her, searching the room for an intruder. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
“‘Twas…’twas only a nightmare,” Keely murmured weakly, closing the door, fingering the silk collar of her robe nervously. “I…I did na mean to cause alarm.”
Jack wheeled around, his heart still thundering but relief flooding through him. “A nightmare?”
Keely nodded. “I dreamt the Dragon had come for me.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper, and her lower lip trembled.
“My God,” Jack swore, outraged at the fear that had been so instilled in Keely that it spilled over into her dreams. She crouched against the door like a frightened animal, and the terror had not left her eyes. He took a step toward her and saw her flinch. “I won’t hurt you, Keely,” he told her as he had before. If he hadn’t thought it would frighten her more, he would have reached out for her and taken her into his arms, to reassure himself as much as her that she was all right.
Jack had had more experience than he ever wanted in consoling victims of violent crimes. He had comforted widows, orphans, even men who had lost someone they loved through senseless violence. But he had never felt as helpless as he did at the moment, for Keely was a victim of another kind of crime that made no sense—manipulation through fear—and he was at a loss as to how to help her get past it.
“It was only a dream, Keely,” he offered, trying not to notice the soft curves visible beneath the green silk. “There is no dragon.”
“I know in my head ‘twas only a dream, but Alyn insists ‘twas the Dragon that killed Genevieve.” Her voice cracked. “He says that somehow the Dragon finds a way to take his revenge against people like Genny. And me.”
Jack could stand it no longer. He went to her. “Come here,” he said softly and drew her into his arms, silently cursing Alyn Runyon and all the rest on the island of Keinadraig who were responsible for this woman’s needless terror.
“There is no dragon, Keely,” he repeated patiently, searching for the right thing to say that would comfort her. But his anger got in the way. “Your uncle is either a fool or a criminal for filling your head with that trash.”
Keely tensed and moved away from him. “I know there is na Dragon, na in the flesh. But to the people on my island, the Dragon is as real as day,” she replied, and he heard her defensive tone. She twisted her fingers in distress. “You do na understand, Jack.”
“Then help me understand,” he said, unable to hide his impatience. “Help me understand how an entire village can be controlled by an old legend. This is the twenty-first century, for God’s sake. There are no dragons in this day and age. What is everyone so afraid of?”
She lifted her chin. “If ye will pardon me, I am not dressed proper to be in a room alone with a man.”
But Jack was not going to let her out of this so easily. “I’ll wait while you change.” He gestured toward the bathroom.
She glared at him but reached for pieces of the clothing that she had laid across the chair and headed for the bathroom. Moments later, she emerged in a soft, flowing dress the color of ripe melon that reached to her ankles. A multicolored sash was tied at her waist. Her hair shone, obviously freshly brushed. She wore no makeup, for not only was she unfamiliar with it, she needed none. Her skin glowed with natural vitality, and her lips invited him with their own deep pink hue.
She was just as distracting fully clothed as she had been in her robe. Jack groaned to himself. She was not making this easy on him either.
“You look real pretty,” he said fatuously, feeling like a schoolboy.
Keely’s cheeks deepened in color. “Thank ye, but we must na stay here. ‘Tis na proper for a man and a woman to be alone together like this.”
Jack let out a long sigh and rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “This is a different world than you are accustomed to, Keely. Men and women are often alone…
together. I have told you I won’t hurt you. Can you not trust me?”
She hesitated. “Did Genevieve trust your friend?”
Jack saw her point, but refuted her implication. “Brad did not kill her, Keely.”
“If it was na Brad, and na the Dragon, then who killed Genny?”
Jack shook his head. “Your guess is as good as mine,” he said, then in deference to her obvious discomfort at their being “alone together,” he went to the door. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
The day had rolled into early evening, and the birds were well into their final chorus for the day. The lazily retiring sun turned the tree trunks golden, and a light breeze caught Keely’s hair. She paused, turned her face to the wind, and took a deep breath.
“The scent of the ocean always makes me feel better,” she said, smiling up at him.
Her skin seemed to glow in the golden sunlight, and highlights gleamed in her rich, dark hair. The sleeveless dress revealed soft shoulders that offered a dangerous invitation to a man’s touch, and Jack wished he’d helped her select something less tempting. “Are you chilly? Would you like to take along a wrap?”
She looked at him as if he were nuts. “‘Tis the middle of summer.”
He shrugged. “The breeze can be cool at night.” Well, you tried, old boy, he thought wryly, and wondered how he would keep his hands off those shoulders for the rest of the evening.
They meandered along the stone sidewalk, admiring the profusion of flowers at riot in the lush garden outside the inn. “Look, there’s a fish!” Keely cried in delight, discovering a lurking koi in the pond that was carefully designed into the landscape. She clapped her hands, as excited as a child. Jack’s heart swelled to see her earlier fear vanish and her innocence return. He wanted to give her that, a renewed innocence, but he knew it was not possible. But he could give her this, a brief time in between yesterday and tomorrow, where free from the fears of the past she could begin to discover the exciting new world that soon would be hers.
The frightful images from her dream began to fade as Keely walked beside Jack along the sunlit lane that took them back down the steep hill and into the village. So, too, did her apprehension about being with him. She had been surprised and troubled when he’d become so angry a short while ago. It was hard for her to understand how a stranger could possibly care about what her people thought or how they lived their lives. But it was obvious he felt strongly that their ways were wrong. Although she had felt the need to defend them, he’d struck a chord somewhere deep inside when he’d asked what everyone was so afraid of.
What was she so afraid of? Her dreams? Retribution from a Dragon Jack said
did not exist? A Dragon that even she knew did not exist except as a monster of the mind? Drawing in another deep breath of the fresh, tangy sea air, Keely tossed her hair back and raised her face to the sky. She smiled as she saw the twinkle of a single star poke its face into the summer night. It was the same sky, the same star, she’d seen on summer nights all her life, but suddenly, seeing it from the outside, here with Jack, it seemed more precious, more enchanting.
In fact, everything felt differently delicious to her, even her clothing. She became aware of the caress of the soft fabric of the luscious pink dress against her calves as she walked. Her shoulders were brazenly bare against the soft night air, arousing some distinctly sensual but not unpleasant sensations. The skin of her left arm tingled where it mingled with Jack’s body heat as they walked close together.
He had not touched her since their words back at the inn. Suddenly, Keely wanted him to touch her. She realized that his little outburst against her people and their ways had been protective, not accusatory. Protective in the same manner as when he’d stepped between her and Alyn to protect her from her uncle’s wrath. She did not know why he cared, but she was glad he did. Boldly, she slipped her hand into his, and a charge like electricity shot through her when he tightened his fingers around hers.
“Beautiful evening,” he said, giving her one of his rare smiles. Keely’s insides turned to melted butter.
She searched for words in reply, but all she could muster was a weak, “Aye.”
As they reached the center of the village, Keely noticed a crowd was gathering down by the quay. “What’s happening?” she asked.
“Let’s find out.” Jack grasped her hand even more tightly and wove them through the crowd until they came upon a scene unlike anything she’d ever laid eyes on. To one side of the town square, a yellow tent was set up, inside of which four men were tuning musical instruments. Along the waterfront, strings of gaily colored lights cast merry reflections in the water of the quiet harbor. At quayside, a man with a little cart was selling some kind of sausage in a bun, and Keely’s mouth watered at the smell of the cooking meat. Nearby, another vendor offered “The World’s Best Ice Cream.”